Before They Were Tallest
by Leki
Summary: Before they were Tallest, Red and Purple had been ordinary soldiers. What with Red always working so hard and outshining him, Purple worries about being outshined and left behind. But that's for latter, right now they're in the middle of a mission!


**Before They Were Tallest...**

[Before they were Tallest, Red and Purple had been ordinary soldiers. What with Red always working so hard and outshining him, Purple worries about being outshined and left behind. But that's for latter, right now they're in the middle of a mission!]

Pre-Tallest!Purple & Pre-Tallest!Red. Rated K. Mild Violence.

* * *

He was really out of his element. He could tell immediately. As an Irken, he was immediately, instinctively turned towards becoming a soldier, no matter the rank that he obtained. That's what all Irkens inspired to be, the elite, Invaders, a hand picked few that would be sent out into the galaxy to expand the Irken Empire. Although it was considered to be a 'joy' to be even a sanitary or cooking unit. Anything that helped the Armada reach its potential expansion.

But the only thing that seemed to be expanding for Purple was his tummy.

Purple was sitting on a rough rocky bench that had been blasted hastily for a seat. They didn't have the pop up equipment that the higher ups were granted, so Purple had had to blast himself a seat, or rough it on the dirt. And he and dirt didn't get along. Purple was gulping down rations into his gullet, chewing with an open mouth and looking fretful.

Red sighed and walked up to him, settling beside him. He'd been the mule the whole time without complaint, and settled the stuff down in their properly protective packages, hidden behind the rock so it couldn't be snatched. He swung the weight of his armored arm up to put a hand over Purple's food.

"Hey!" Purple whined, too distressed for it to be called a snap.

"If you run out of rations, they won't supply you with any more. You know that." He sat down in the niche that was beside Purple. Purple had made him a hollowed out smooth spot to sit. He knew they would be meeting up, as usual. It just seemed to happen like that.

Their infantile tubes, where the Irken fetus' had been held, had been side by side. They had no conscious thought, hadn't even known that the other was there. They had simply existed, not even having taken their first breath, instead fueled by chemically balanced liquids that filled every empty space in their bodies.

When the tubes had been cracked open, they had been landed on the same cold, metal room as the others that were currently in their troop in the present day. They had stood in line together as rations and equipment were given out, as they were made to silently accept their fate. They lived and trained together, and it never seemed to occur to one or the other to move away from each other. Their places seem to be side by side. They had a whole troop to support them, but there was stronger support here, between the two, that neither questioned. Ones annoyance didn't seem to bother the other, instead, it seemed to give them personality. Every trait that was good was treasured. That's just how it went. And so it had been for perhaps 30 years. They were younglings, but not too young. Enough to start fighting. Fighting that Purple wasn't taking too well too.

Red leaned on his knees, body sagging with exhaustion. He glanced sideways at Purple. He'd put in a lot of time and effort, and it showed.

"You shouldn't take off your armor." Purple's armor was leaned lazily against the rock at his feet. Red's own body, torso, arms, legs, shoulders, were encased in heavy armor. There had been projectile attacks on and off from a hit and run type ship that was sniping off their troop, the same troop they had been raised with. It was too armored to get a good, cracking blast on, and most of the time, it was too fast for even that. Always there and then over there, before any ships could be called in from patrol to assist.

"It gets in the way." Purple sniffed, raising a dry cracker like cake to bite into it. Red reached out a heavy arm and laid his hand on top of the cracker, taking it away, and wrapping it back in its packaging, tucking it into his own pack. More weight, but it would have to do. He wouldn't let Purple go hungry. Purple whined in his throat but didn't say anything. With nothing to hold in his hand, he anxious flexed his fingers out and set them on the long hem that made up Red's jacket. And there they flexed, anxious, "I don't know why we have to wear armor every day anyways, its tiring…."

There was silence between them, Purple turned slightly towards Red. They didn't say anything. They were absolutely exhausted, the both of them. They're faces were drawn in dark emotions, their bodies sagging with the weight of little sleep, little food, and above all, no peace of mind. The superiors had them at beck and call. They were constantly running errands, cleaning, fighting off other foot soldiers, making delivers. Anything that could be come up with, they would do. Complaining? There wasn't any time for it, and it got you in a front line position that got you quickly killed to get you just as quickly out of the way and out of other's antennae.

Red's own antennae twitched and shot straight up, his spine immediately stiffening with it. A whistling. Without saying a word, he turned and scooped Purple up in his arms, dashing away as fast as he could. He didn't have a cruiser, he just had his own two feet. A missile grazed the stone seat they had been sitting on and followed them in a very slight curve until Red threw them behind another rocky outcropping. Red hugged Purple's unarmored body to himself as the missile hit the rock. The blast, even shielded, threw them both onto the ground. There was more blasting as the enemy rocked their world that had shrunk to this time and place. Red vaguely registered that Purple was clawing at his chest, wanting to get at the weapons, but it was too soon. Red pushed him against the already burning tree that was behind him, thankfully only burning at the crispy tops, and held him there. There was no time to give coordinates, no time to call help. Even if help heard or saw this trouble, they'd be burnt long before unless Red took iniative.

"STAY!" Red screamed at Purple, shoving him harshly, commanding him to stay pressed against the tree and whirled around, taking off and ignoring the quick lasers that were picking at his armor. He grit his teeth, raising his arm to ward off the attacks that would become fatal if they hit his unarmored head. Although Purple's equipment, being at the front, would have been shredded, his own had been tucked away, properly encased. Maybe, just maybe….

"RED!" Purple did not listen, of course. He stood up, pulling his lazer gun out from the belt around his waist that no Irken was without, and raised it, shooting at the ship that was leveling its weapons at the dashing Red, "No you don't!" He fired and fired, aiming at the glass, but his shots pinged off with no effect. Purple grit his teeth in fear, eyes narrowing as he kept firing, seeking a weak spot, and cursing himself. He had never wanted a heavier weapon. It was a burden to him. And now he was paying dearly, and maybe his partner would pay for his mistake too.

He saw Red stagger as he dived for the bench, an antennae blasted off, a gouge ripped in his head. He could not hear his snarl of pained anger, but he could imagine it, and yelled for, with, him, blasting furiously at the ship, running closer. Red forced the pain away and grabbed the weapon that he had been toting for weeks. A launcher that ran the length of his back was hoisted up and onto his shoulder. As soon as he knew a ship was sniping off Invaders, he'd immediately harassed officers until he got a heavier weapon. He braced himself and a missile was quickly launched at the offensive ship. The pilot's face widened in shock, and he tried to swerve, but Red was a true shot after having spent many hours on the courses, with much more time than his other troop members. Purple ran forward, gasping for breath, as shrapnel fell about them, metal pieces whirling.

"Back!" Red snapped, reaching and pulling Purple to him, turning so his armored back would take the falling debris. Purple watched with wide eyes at the firey pieces exploded and crinkled before falling, until Red tucked his unprotected head down. There was silence between them again as they waited, and slowly, Red's green blood oozed down onto Purple's head. When it was over, Red pulled away, looking back at the wreckage. Purple's antennaes were down. He had not even managed to damage the vessel. His lower lip pooched out in distress, watching Red's oozing blood. He wanted to touch it, sooth it, but he didn't have anything to help him. He never did. He really couldn't seem to take care or make good critical hits. He would be stuck in the lower ranks forever, while Red would move on without him. Purple sniffled. Red heard the sniffle, and turned around, a smile on his face, softer than before. His face was flooded with relief.

"Hey, hold it together, Purp. Let's get outta here." He stepped forward, rubbing Purple's sleek head, before cocking his head to the camp. After all, there was nothing to retrieve. All of Purple's things had been demolished by the missile. Purple hung his head in shame, knowing he would get punishment for losing his armor. And all he had left was a mere cracker. It seemed his shame weighted his every step of the way, and even more with guilt as Red hefted the launcher to take back.

Almost absentmindedly from exhaustion, Red stripped himself of his chest plate, a neutral pinkish color, rusted with red, a common thing for soldiers and undistinguishable from the rest, and slapped it onto Purple's chest with one hand, the other cradling the weapon.

"Hold." Purple sniffled, pushing it away.

"Thanks, but… its all over for me. You can't cover my bum forever." Purple glubbed. Red glared at him, and Purple sighed, holding it in place as Red strapped the armor in place. He grinned slightly and winked.

"At least you got your answer. This is why you don't take off your armor." Purple choked up a chuckle through his crying, but then sunk into depressed silence. Red stared at him intensely, walking with him. They walked over a hill, and suddenly there was camp, closer than expected. Despite their exhaustion, they had made good speed. Perhaps adrenaline was to blame, putting Purple closer to punishment so fast. Purple immediately stifled his crying. Red didn't mind so much, but other Irkens would look down on him with shame.

The crowd of Irkens saw the returning two troops, battered, barely standing, but alive and heads held high. There was cheering, a rowdy cheer of success. The Captain of Red and Purple's squad came forward, grinning proudly. They had all seen the flames, too big for just the Irken soldiers to get picked off. They had guessed what had happened before they had even returned, a ship probably already on its way to retrieve the pieces.

"Good job, Soldiers. You destroyed the ship that has been plaguing us. You survived the decimation of dozens of good soldiers. You get a tent tonight and a hot meal." Out of the corner of his eyes, Red saw Purple's head and antennae drooping. He had not been the one that fired the missile blast. His shots were minimal. He had, outside of protocol, taken off his armor and had been wolfing down his rations. He would drag his partner down. He raised his fingers to address the Captain when Red suddenly grasped his hand and raised it high. He looked down at the crowd, his own hand raised high with Purple's, fingers intertwined.

"Well, boys, aren't you gonna give us a bigger cheer than that? We kicked ass!" He grinned cockily as a huge swelling cheer roared from the Irkens at the victory. Purple smiled tentatively, and then his own face broke into a grin and he raised both hands.

"YEAH!" He cheered along with the Irkens, he cheered for his hero and partner who squeezed his hand tightly. Red would not be sharing any tent, or meal, alone.

* * *

A oneshot for Red and Purple. They seem to have a mutual feeling of companionship. They only seem to be mean to their poor lackeys who have to listen to their crap. XD I tend to imagine Irkens vicious, but why not have some fluff?


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